Handlebars
by KookieEvans
Summary: It's funny, how time seems to repeat itself. People change and years pass but some things always stay the same. Slight Rachel/Bruce.


**Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own anything recogniseable. **

**Author's Note: Hello everybody! I'm, well, slightly nervous about this. Technically this is only my second BB/TDK fan fiction, and the first one didn't get an overwhelming amount of response...but hey, I don't mind, I'm glad a few people enjoyed it enough to tell me :) Well, this story is broken into two parts, I'm sure you'll figure it out, but the first half is when Rachel and Bruce are about 13 years old.**

**I hope you like this fic, as it is my third draft, which probably makes this my most revised piece of writing ever! Feel loved guys :)  
Enjoy!**

_I can ride my bike with no handlebars,_  
_No handlebars, no handlebars _

The summer sun beat down over Wayne Manor. Rachel Dawes sat on the grass, lazily making a daisy chain from the simple flowers she had picked from their earthy roots. Bruce Wayne cycled around the garden on his shiny new bicycle, occasionally nodding to her amiably whenever their eyes met. No words were exchanged but that was nice on days like this. Sometimes it was too hot for deep conversation.

"Hey Rach, look at me!" The eager call rudely shook Rachel from her thoughts, but any annoyance she felt soon drained out of her. Bruce was slowly pedalling towards her, his hands above his head, far from the handlebars. This teamed with her friend's excited expression made Rachel giggle delightedly and clap her hands with glee.

Bruce's heart swelled with pride and he smirked before pushing his luck and, stretching his arms out to his sides, stood up slightly.

Pride comes before a fall. He didn't notice that the movement had thrown him off balance.

"Bruce - look out!" Rachel called out, too late, as the bike wobbled dangerously. The young boy cried out in shock as it slipped out from beneath him, and he crashed to the floor, hard.

The terrified girl sprang to her feet and the daisy chain dropped from her lap, only to get trampled underfoot as she raced to Bruce's side and fell down next to him.

One of the bicycle wheels continued spinning pathetically.

"Are you okay?"

Bruce groaned, his face turned an unnatural shade of grey and his leg was twisted into a worrying position.

"It…it _hurts_…"

"I'll call Alfred!" The young teenager fished her mobile from her pocket and dialled the butler's number. After an agonising lifetime of waiting he answered, and Rachel barked a few hurried details before hanging up and tossing the phone aside so that she could grab Bruce's hand.

"Does it hurt really bad? What if it's broken? Oh God, what if-"

"Rachel," The boy laughed through gritted teeth. "It's gonna be okay."

"Aren't you scared?" She stared at him in disbelief.

"Ah, you know me Rach," He smiled painfully and weakly clutched at his leg. "I'm fearless."

* * *

Rachel trashed about uncomfortably against the clown's thug holding her, while before them a fiery clash of the Batman and the Joker played out.

The two men flowed so easily together they almost looked like they were dancing. Each movement was so smooth she somewhat deliriously wondered if they had choreographed it all beforehand. It was a twisted but perfect piece of art. The Joker ducked and swerved, occasionally throwing out a fist in the hopes that it would connect with his rival - cackling like a demented banshee the whole time. The Batman was much more controlled : his attacks were well timed and his muscles moved gracefully under his body armour. It was hard to believe it was her very mortal friend caught in that black hurricane of aggression and self righteous anger.

The vigilante landed a powerful roundhouse kick and seemed to gain the upper hand until the Joker flicked a knife out, seemingly from thin air. Rachel wanted to cry out a warning (Bruce - look out!) but the thug restraining her clamped a hand over her mouth.

Time seemed to slow as the Joker twitched his wrist upwards craftily, and the sharp blade scraped along the Kevlar torso plate until it slide between the cracks at the join, into Batman's waist. His eyes widened and a choked gasp fell from his lips. The clown giggled guiltily, wrenched the blade out and span away into the night. The man holding Rachel pushed her aside roughly and raced after his employer.

When she got to his side, Batman was staring down the alley the Joker had disappeared into.

"Don't you _dare_ go after him!" She gasped, voice shaky with worry. The vigilante nodded reluctantly, not moving. When Rachel tried to inspect his wound he winced and batted away her hands, limping towards the waiting Tumbler.

As soon as they got into the vehicle he impatiently removed his mask and threw it aside with a growl. Rachel bit her lip.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He snarled, eyes of fire burning into hers.

Rachel flinched but remained silent for the rest of the journey. The only sounds were Bruce's laboured breaths, and she took in his permanent grimace and the sweat rolling down his ashen face (It…it hurts…). No matter what he said, he obviously wasn't fine.

The Tumbler roared and burst through the waterfall - Rachel squeezed her eyes shut tightly - and landed in the cave he had taken her to when Crane had poisoned her.

"I thought you had a new place for this now?"

"I do," Bruce fumbled with his seatbelt and scrambled from the armoured car as soon as the roof opened. "This is closer."

Rachel shakily climbed from her seat and politely ignored the gasp of pain Bruce unintentionally made as his sudden steps had a burning effect on his stab wound. He expertly clicked open a clasp that released his Kevlar torso plates, revealing the skin tight top he wore underneath. Large droplets of water splattered to the floor sickeningly, having soaked through the top, which Bruce removed carefully peeling it away from where it had stuck to his wound.

Tears sprang to Rachel's horrified eyes as she took in Bruce's once perfect chest. Bumpy, ugly scars and colourful bruises littered his stomach, and his strong muscles were covered in deep gashes and even a few burns. The newest addition pumped out fresh crimson blood that tainted his tanned skin.

Completely oblivious to his friend's distress, Bruce started to tend to his wound with his old medical supplies and only faltered when Rachel traced a hand down his scarred chest. He shivered under her gentle touch.

"Aren't you scared?" A defiant tear rolled down her cheek.

"Ah, you know me Rach," He lifted his bloodstained hands to wipe her tears away and cradle her face. "I'm fearless."

_And I can end the planet in a holocaust,_  
_In a holocaust. _

**Author's Note : Well I hope you enjoyed it.**

This was all inspired by an amazing song called "Handlebars" by the Flobots. It's a catchy and deep song, so I'd recommend you check it out - I love it!

**And I realise that Bruce's action in the last sentence would end up smearing his blood across her face - this was the imagery I really wanted to add in, but it just sounded too out of place when I wrote it in, and I didn't want to weird anyone out, but in my image of this action I can picture it so clearly I wanted to mention it.**

**So, thanks so much for reading this, and please review on your way out : any kind of feedback is welcome!**


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